


Accidents Happen {Phichit Chulanont x Skater!Reader}

by thispanbelongsinthetrash



Series: Oneshots [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Just end me, M/M, Other, Reader-Insert, Same with Yurio, Skater!Reader, Victor is mentioned kinda but not really present so I didn't tag him?, Why is this beautiful baby so underappreciated, fight me, i don't know how to tag, protect him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 11:11:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12703818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thispanbelongsinthetrash/pseuds/thispanbelongsinthetrash
Summary: Prompt: No prompt. Just a lack of Phichit fics.In which Reader has a training accident and Phichit comforts them.Word Count: 1413Because my baby is underappreciated and I'm salty so I made a thing.





	Accidents Happen {Phichit Chulanont x Skater!Reader}

**Author's Note:**

> I got very upset over the lack of Phichit Chulanont fics so I made my own.
> 
> First time writing for YOI.
> 
> Tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it if I write more for this series. (I probably will it's taken over my life end me)
> 
> Sequel? I don't know? I could definitely write more for this but I don't know if I should.
> 
> Enjoy?
> 
> Edit: I recently went back through this to tweak some minor typos and I'm melting because Phichit is such a sweetie someone end me

 */*/*/*/*/*/*

 

It happened quickly.

 

You were practicing quads with Phichit when you landed awkwardly. Even on the other end of the rink, he heard the harsh, unnatural thud of your body hitting the ice where your skates should have caught you.

 

“You alright?” He called out. He wasn’t particularly concerned at first. Quads were difficult and the two of you were practicing for a reason. Falls were bound to happen. When his only response was a muffled whine of pain and you rolling onto your back, he knew something was wrong.

 

In less than an hour, you were stationed in a hospital room.

 

Phichit was at your side hours later when they told you that you’d sprained your knee very mildly, but his sigh of relief came too soon when the doctor revealed the next bit of information. You’d torn a ligament in your ankle. It would be months before you could walk without a cast or boot, and there was a possibility that you would never be able to skate competitively again. And that was with a corrective surgery.

 

You stayed in the hospital for a total of nine days.

 

The day after your injury was when your surgery was scheduled. You were unconscious for the duration of it, but Phichit was there when you woke up. The cast on your ankle was **(color)** and Phichit had already taken a marker to it.

 

_**You’ll be back on the ice in no time! I’ll practice extra hard for you!** _

_**With Love,** _

_**Phichit** _

 

Phichit himself was in the chair next to your bed, slouched over with his head resting on his hand. He was still dressed in his practice gear, so you didn’t have to stretch far to imagine that he was keeping true to his note.

 

About ten minutes later, a sharp ringing from your bedside table caught your attention and your heart swelled for a moment before you answered because Phichit, that precious ball of sunshine, had brought your phone and its charger and made sure to plug it up.

 

It was a video call.

 

“Hey, **(Y/N)**!” Yuuri called at you through the screen, only to quiet when you held a finger to your lips and swiveled the phone to reveal Phichit sleeping. “Oh, sorry.” He lowered his voice. “Phichit told me what happened. I’ve been worried.”

 

You sighed. “I’m sorry I worried you. Phichit’s been going out of his mind. I swear he spends every waking moment here or at the rink.”

 

Yuuri nodded. “That definitely sounds like him. He cares about you a lot, you know.”

 

“I know,” You sighed.

 

“You never answered my question.” Yuuri reminded you, and you focused on his face on the screen with a quirk of your brows. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Oh,” You said quietly. “Tired I guess. My surgery was this morning and I just woke up. The nurses haven’t even gotten to me yet.” The door to your room opened and a white-clad nurse cleared their throat and tapped angrily at their clipboard with a pen. “Looks like I jinxed it. Gotta go!”

 

You were wheelchair ridden for the next four days, with Phichit somehow balancing visiting you with practicing. He showed up with a bloody nose one day and danced around the question every time you asked him about it.

 

Your sixth day there, they sized you for crutches and taught you how to use them. You fell flat on your face more than once and almost took Phichit’s eye out with the end of one crutch several times in your small hospital room.

 

When you were finally allowed to leave, Phichit was there, hovering just slightly behind of you in case you teetered on the torture devices you had been given to walk on.

 

It wasn’t until he had to help you up the stairs to your apartment building that the crushing reality of your situation truly hit you.

 

You were a professional figure skater.

 

That couldn’t skate.

 

And may never be able to skate competitively again.

 

Before Phichit could even haul you up the rest of the stairs (you had gone deadweight so he was now completely carrying you), tears were streaming down your face and you clutched onto him tightly, clinging to him with everything you had.

 

He somehow managed to get you into your apartment and even made the extra effort to take you to your room instead of dumping you on the couch.

 

“What am I going to do?” You cried into his shoulder as he held you.

 

He pulled away and lifted your chin to look you in the eye. “Right now, you’re going to quit crying. Then, I’m going to make hot chocolate and we’re going to put on some movies and spend the entire day doing nothing. After that, we’ll take it one day at a time. You’ll go through physical therapy, and if you can’t get back in competitively, there are other opportunities in the same field that you could look into. Okay?” He tucked a rebellious strand of hair behind one of your ears and smiled at you. “It’s all going to work out eventually, I promise. Everyone is here for you.” And he snatched your phone from the pocket of your oversized jacket (that you stole from him) and pulled up your Facebook feed, turning the screen of the phone to face you.

 

Tears fell anew at the sight you were met with.

 

One of the top trending tags was #staystrongY/N and when you clicked on it, you saw countless videos, pictures and text messages. Other competitors had even gotten involved. Yuuri, Yuri, and Victor (you suspected that Yuuri and Victor had dragged the tiny, angry Russian into it, most likely unwillingly), had made a heartwarming video telling you not to give up, and to take time to heal. They ended the video with hand hearts (Yuri did not participate) and kissy faces at the screen (Yuri stuck his tongue out).

 

Sometime during your scrolling, Phichit had left the room and you only noticed when he pried one hand away from your phone and placed a warm cup of hot chocolate in it. He had even taken care to put in in your favorite cup, with just the right amount of whipped cream, marshmallows, and crushed oreos.

 

You smiled gratefully at him and he sat quietly while you continued scrolling. Eventually, you made it to a video with your face at the beginning.

 

It wasn’t a very flattering photo of you, but you clicked play regardless. Music started up, specifically the music to your free skate last year, which you’d had a friend compose for you **_(like Yuuri’s Yuuri on Ice track but ya know yours. You can imagine your own music for it.)_ ** , detailing your skating career. As the music continued, there were pictures from when you were young and had just started skating, leading into pictures from your first competitive season. From there, photos of you joining the rink in Denver, pictures with Phichit and Yuuri, and pictures with just Phichit after Yuuri had left, including moving to Thailand. The video ended with a clip of Phichit on the ice, skating to the ending of your song. There was a just barely visible patch of blood on his upper lip, and you realized why he’s had a bloody nose when he’d come to visit you. Phichit smiled at the camera, winked, and threw himself into a quadruple salchow, causing your breath to hitch as he landed it perfectly, and the camera followed him across the rink, revealing a hand-crafted sign reading “Get well soon, **Y/N**! We’re rooting for you next season!”

 

The tears that you thought you had finally wrangled in were not, in fact, wrangled in, and were falling more freely than ever, staining your cheeks much like your cocoa stained the sheets as you turned around a bit too quickly, grabbing your boyfriend and pulling him into a bone crushing hug.

 

“You’re gonna make it through this,” He said quietly as he wrapped his arms around you. “You’re the strongest person I know. And what would I do if my favorite skater retired prematurely? I’d be a mess.” He said this with a straight face, but his eyes revealed his laughter.

 

You scoffed and pushed him back lightly before pulling him close again and kissing him gently.

 

“So,” He whispered as you moved your face away from his. “What movie should we watch first?”

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love for you guys to request things! https://goo.gl/forms/r20XFoJ8qaNFRrIH2


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